


The Plate

by Madisuzy



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Gen, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-03
Updated: 2009-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-12 22:23:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madisuzy/pseuds/Madisuzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The screaming was coming from inside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Plate

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little experimental piece I wrote for a friend. It doesn't follow correct sentence structure and is mostly made up of small, stunted sentences. It originally had an extra line to the drabble section, but I hated it, so I cut it out in this version and made a couple of corrections. Also, the poem at the end is the only example of my poetry I've ever put up to public scrutiny, and I doubt I'll ever post more. Poetry is a private thing to me, and besides, all of mine is rather depressing anyway.
> 
> ~~~

Darkness. Like cancer, it grew inside of him, unseen and unnoticed by those around him.

Thick, sticky blackness. It had started so small. Just a tiny spot he could ignore. Smile and pretend it wasn't there. Pretend everything was ok. Pretend the wounds inside were healing, scarring over. Pretend that he could look in the mirror without flinching.

Lies, so many lies. Lies fed the blackness and made it grow. Made the wound inside seep and fester. Swell and consume.

Nobody saw. They were all blind. All they saw was the smile. All they heard were the jokes. Become a clown and hide the pain. Already had the hair. Burning red, like the flames of that day. The flames that had devoured anything that had survived his crime. His sin. His damnation.

The screaming was coming from inside. At first it had only been at night. He'd close his eyes and it would begin. Hundreds of voices. Men. Women. Children. That's why he couldn't be alone. That's why he would drown it out with alcohol and sex. His body was just a tool to gain respite. But now it didn't matter anymore. The screaming never stopped. Even when his eyes were open he could hear them. Their fear. Their terror. Their pain.

 

\---------------------

**I am…..what am I?**

...

I am the wisps of smoke

Dissipating in the breeze

After the fire burns out

...

I am the memory of what was

What could have been before

What can never be again

...

I am pain personified

I am hope abandoned

I am despair

\---------------------


End file.
